Chimera
by Kijutsu
Summary: It seems like the Winchesters have finally found the applepie life they've been searching for. But when the fairytale spirals out of control will the consquences be fatal?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Since my wallet is decidedly bare I think it's safe to assume that I don't own _Supernatural_. I do, however, own the characters of Susan, John (Jnr.) and Keira.

**A/N:** I'm in Aus. Even if I wanted to spoil you I couldn't. Whilst this is not my first fan-fiction (ok so it is for this account) this is my first _Supernatural_ one. Would love to know what you think. HUGE thanks to Bron (otherwise known as InSecret) for being my red pen, being generally logical, and for the 'Oh I love that line!'

**Chapter One**

Dean turned the radio up, letting the heavy metal blast out of the speakers as he sped down the highway. That was one of the benefits of not working with Sam anymore. The music could be loud and he could go as fast as he wanted.

Even at the high speed, Dean managed to swerve into the long driveway with total precision, sending a flurry of gravel behind him and parking with the grace of someone who knew his way around both the steering wheel and the property. A young tree stood in the middle of the sweeping driveway, effectively shielding the events of the pretty white house from the street. From his car Dean could see the glow of light and warmth from the large French windows.

The front door opened slightly as Dean approached and a slender young woman, face creased with laughter, called out, 'Music that loud, there's only one person it can be!'

Suddenly the door was flung wide and the woman stepped aside as a childlike blur shot across the lawn and cannoned into Dean. The small boy uttered a muffled 'Uncle Dean!' into Dean's jacket as he scrambled to find purchase on the smooth material. Dean swung his nephew up into his arms, laughing.

'Hey tyke! How you doin'?'

The boy grinned at him, looking exactly like a much younger version of Dean's brother. Dean was also willing to bet that his limbs would shoot out when the kid hit puberty, just like Sam's had. Still, the dark brown eyes were definitely those of his namesake, Sam and Dean's dad, John Winchester. Fighting back a sudden glimmer of regret he flashed his sister in law a grin over John's mop of messy hair.

'Hey, Susan, did I disturb you guys?'

'Not at all,' she parried, then joked, 'we heard the music a while ago – gave us warning.'

Dean smiled with humour at the pretty, wholesome brunette. Susan looked like the perfect American housewife; her long hair swept neatly back into a pony tail, her eyes green and friendly. However, Dean had been pleased to discover that she had a spark that allowed her to deal with the frequent visions and nightmares that were a legacy of Sam's hunter past.

'Can I come on your next trip Uncle Dean?'

The eager voice of his nephew was accompanied by a firm tug of his jacket, designed to summon the hunter's complete attention.

Dean laughed, shaking his head. 'You know your mommy would never forgive me for that. She might even go on a hunting trip of her own.' His hazel eyes glinted teasingly at Susan.

The meaning of his uncle's words went straight over the little boy's head and he turned, baffled, to his mom.

'Can I go on that one Mommy?'

'I don't think so,' said Susan good-naturedly. 'And no going with Uncle Dean either, okay John.'

The child pulled a face before deciding to pretend he hadn't heard his mother, planning the adventures they could have in a happy voice as Dean carried him into the house.

The interior of the building was a sleek and welcoming design, the gloss of the floorboards drawing people down towards the kitchen and living room, the warm, cream-coloured walls decorated with a collection of simple snapshots of the family. The hallway hid a stairway that led upstairs to the bedrooms.

Dean sniffed the air approvingly as they passed the kitchen. Susan's cooking had been an endearing factor after years of diner food and both Sam and Dean had learned to appreciate a nice home-cooked meal.

Dean's music had evidently not been loud enough to disturb Sam, or the little dark-haired girl sitting on his knee watching the television. A brief glance over her shoulder showed the green eyes she had inherited from her mother which, coupled with her father's physique, gave her an elf-like appearance.

'Hi, Keira!'

The small girl ignored him, having already turned back to the television, but Dean's brother twisted around in recognition.

'Hey man!'

Sam's face lit up even as his daughter turned to tell him off for interrupting her program. Sam shrugged, aiming a rueful smile at Dean.

'Not excited to see me, huh?' Dean asked, lowering John to the floor and feigning hurt at Keira's disinterest. 'What are you watching anyway?'

His niece didn't move a muscle as she responded, '_Wizard of Oz_.'

'You know that movie's just a whole lot of political and religious propaganda right? Like tourism, but totally subversive.'

Dean's comment was directed at his brother who shifted Keira off his lap and stood, gaping. Looking astonished he blurted, 'How the hell do you even know that?'

'I know everything,' smirked Dean. 'You should know that by now. Big brother's always right.'

Dean met John's instinctive grin at the words 'big brother' and both Sam and Keira shot him a glare. Keira sighed and paused the movie to focus on Dean.

'Uncle Dean, you're silly. It's about a girl who goes over the rainbow and has to find the Wizard of Oz to send her back home!' She frowned at him. 'There aren't any tourists. 'Sides, you're talking too loud.'

She spoke with the neat edge of someone who wasn't yet used to talking properly, but she had mastered the look she was giving Dean, one that challenged him to argue in the face of what she considered irrefutable logic.

Susan came to his rescue with a well-timed suggestion. 'Why don't we grown ups talk in the kitchen while I get dinner ready? And you' – her tone sharpened, warning Keira to be nice – 'can watch your movie in here.'

John followed Dean into the kitchen, unwilling to miss a second that could be spent with his hero. Dean was happy to indulge him, having developed a deep affection for the little boy. Besides, he had obviously done the job and come out unharmed or he wouldn't be here. He was willing to leave the gruesome reality until after the children were safely tucked up in bed, afraid to harm the innocence of their dreams.

Dean watched the easy routine of the family getting ready for dinner. Even he had his place in it. With other families, like those he met and saved on hunts, he always felt like he was watching something he could never be a part of. But Sam's wife and children had accepted him into their household as naturally as breathing. It was easy to sit and listen as they talked about the kids' day, or how Sam's new job was going.

Tonight was no exception Dean noted later, reclining in his chair. He smiled to himself as he cleaned the last of the sauce from his plate and winked at John who was seated beside him, noticing not for the first time how much he really did look like his grandfather, a trait that just made Dean want to protect him even more.

Ruffling the boy's hair, he turned his attention to his sister in law and said expectantly, 'So, do we get dessert?'

'You can fit dessert in after all that?' Susan laughed disbelievingly.

'I can!' John piped up.

'I'm sure you can,' said Susan with a mock serious face, 'but it's time for you kids to go to bed. Your Uncle Dean will be here in the morning. I promise.'

'But I'm still watching my mo-o-o-vie.' The last word was drawn out into a whine as Keira's eyes brimmed with tears. Dean would have given in to her without thinking, but her mother shot her a no-nonsense look and otherwise ignored the comment. John, however, obviously shared his sister's sentiment and asked anxiously, 'Do you _promise _Uncle Dean? You'll stay?'

'Absolutely!' nodded Dean.

Much to Susan's chagrin, the pair spat on their palms and shook on it. 'Bed, now!' she commanded, rolling her eyes at Dean and herding the kids upstairs so the brothers could talk.

'Does it break the, uh, sanctity of the promise if you wash your hands?' Sam grinned as the trio clattered up the stairs, pleased as usual at the relationship between his brother and his son.

'Not if no informs the little guy,' grinned Dean, leading the way into the kitchen and rinsing his hands in the sink.

'Your secrets are always safe with me,' vowed Sam.

'Thank God for that,' Dean laughed, shaking his head in pretend relief. 'Can't have anyone else knowing about that chick in Nashville!'

Sam gave his brother a long-suffering look, flinging Dean a hand towel. Some things would never change.

'So, how'd the hunt go anyway?' he asked.

'It was a werewolf, like you predicted,' Dean shrugged. 'Standard kill. I just tracked it down and gave it a silver bullet through the heart. A little messy, but no one went out that way. The guy was a total recluse; they probably won't even realize he's gone for months.'

'Good. You're finally learning some caution.' Sam worried every day about his brother, knowing how many times he'd had to force Dean to slow down.

'Uh, sure...caution.'

'_Dean_.' Sam's voice held a warning note. 'What exactly does that mean?'

'Well… They won't notice _he's _gone, but they might miss me.'

'Are you just being arrogant or should I worry?' Sam's face held an almost comic mix of hope and exasperation.

'Well, as long as you don't tell any big, shotgun-wielding farmers with pretty daughters you last name… you should be fine.'

'What _exactly _did you do?' Sam sighed. His brother's ability to find trouble never ceased to amaze him.

'Well, uh, hung out in the barn for a while' Dean's lewd grin told Sam exactly what those words meant. 'Apparently her daddy caught her sneaking back in.'

'What's your obsession with being hunted down?'

'It's the pitchforks.' The older Winchester shrugged and winked like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. 'It's a fetish.'

'God, no wonder Johnny loves you,' Sam said despairingly. 'You're like a five year old sometimes.'

'It's my finest quality,' Dean snickered. 'So – got anything new for me? I can't possibly let you allow me to sit around and get fat from your wife's cooking.'

'Yeah, what a terrible future for you, Dean. But you'll just have to suffer for a little while. I don't have anything for you yet. A few suspicions but nothing's come through.'

'That'd be right. I'm out kicking werewolf ass and you're sitting by the fire with your kids,' Dean ribbed.

'Asshole.'

'Bitch.' Dean leaned back to avoid the playful punch Sam threw in his direction. 'But you can't keep me here forever. You know your apple pie life would drive me insane. Actually, speaking of apple pie…' Dean opened the fridge, rummaging through it before emerging with a freshly baked pie. 'Can I?'

'She baked it just for you,' Sam said, shaking his head at the proffered slice and pulling out a plate before his wife could tell him off for the crumbs Dean was leaving everywhere. Dean grinned at him through a mouthful of apple and pastry.

'I love your wife. If only she weren't already married …'

Sam rolled his eyes as he left the kitchen, choosing to ignore the comment. 'Why don't we go settle down in the lounge room, Susan'll find us in there.'

'Sure, I'll be there in a sec.'

Dean cut a second slice of the pie – for later – before putting it back in the fridge, his bent head missing the sudden distortion of the room, the bizarre way in which the walls seemed to ripple inwards and disappear. He jerked upright as his surroundings darkened, frowning in momentary confusion.

Everything was as it should be, Susan's gentle voice murmuring a bedtime story above him.

_Must be the lights_, he thought, cramming another bite of pie into his mouth, spurning the fork his brother had left for him. _I'll have to check the wiring before I go_.

**TBC**

**A/N:** So if you want me to keep going then do review, the combination of feeling acknowledged and being guilty about people waiting for the next chapter is a surefire way to make me keep writing.

10


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If I owned Supernatural I would have sent the lovely brothers round to thank the people who reviewed. No visits today? I must still not own it sigh (And yeah, I love reviews that much. I'd share the 'love') 

**A/N:** So I still can't spoil you, although some nasty person didn't put a warning up and I just missed a tragic event. I escaped with my life though – and a little bit of a clue. As always I have to thank InSecret, she's magic!

CHAPTER TWO 

Dean struggled under the large silver pipe, sneezing as he came face to face with another dust bunny at home amongst the wiring and insulation in the roof. He'd been up there an hour but so far couldn't find anything wrong with the cabling other than a few frayed cords – dangerous, but hardly going to affect the power downstairs.

Dean sighed, reminding himself to enjoy the time he did have here. It wouldn't be long before he was once again staring some nasty creature in the face, wishing he had nothing more pressing than faulty wiring to spoil his day. Last night he'd had to go into the details of the last hunt for Sam, enough detail to make him remember the weariness he'd felt when he finally killed the damn thing. Enough to make him want to close his eyes and sleep for a month. Sam's life always reinforced that feeling and it was for that reason that he tried so hard to never show up like their dad had when he and Sam were kids, reeking of blood with a cold honest fear in his eyes and a gun barely concealed in his waistband. Dean didn't want John and Keira to know, to _really_ know, the cruelty and evil in this world. He wanted them to think the boogeyman really was just in their imagination and not realize that, while their mother soothed them, their father was fearfully ringing Dean – just in case.

Dean shook his head free of the melancholy thoughts as he returned to work, sneezing at the cloud of dust he had created.

**…**

Below the layers of plasterboard, Sam wrapped his arms around his wife's waist, gently stopping her from leaving the bedroom.

'Whatever it is, it can wait,' he whispered into her ear.

She laughed. 'Sure, but you'd have it waiting forever. And someone has to do the washing _and_ the vacuuming _and_ even cook dinner.'

'Stay a little longer and I'll help; I'll do it all if you want.'

Susan smiled at the tactic and turned around. 'Really?' She wrapped her arms lovingly around her husband's neck and teased sweetly, 'But I've tasted your cooking.'

'Well, I won't cook then. See, it's like I'm doing you a favour.' Sam bent down to kiss her, lifting her up a little to meet his mouth.

Susan melted into her husband's kiss, not bothering to pull her lips away as she murmured, 'How can I argue with _that_?'

Sam lifted her onto the bed.

'You can't.'

…

On the first floor of the house, Keira twisted around in her favorite spot on the lounge and demanded, 'Where are you going?'

Her brother stopped in the doorway and looked her up and down a little guiltily before responding. 'I'm going to go see what Uncle Dean's doing.'

'But Daddy told us to leave him alone while he's up there!'

John sniffed in derision. 'He just said that to _you_. I'm big enough to go help.' The small boy pulled himself up to his full height before marching out the door.

Keira just pressed her lips together and turned back to the TV. She'd learned a while ago that there was no point arguing with her big brother. He never listened anyway.

…

Dean thought he heard footsteps on the ladder and paused in his work for a moment, debating whether or not to investigate it. He decided against it, pinned under the pipe as he was, and at ease knowing it had to be either Sam or Susan; the kids were too small to climb up. Dean could already see his brother's floppy hair preceding him; hear his voice asking what he was doing. That was why he whacked his head on the pipe above him in surprise when he heard a much younger voice asking, 'Can I help you Uncle Dean?'

Dean panicked for a second in his struggle to free himself from under the pipe, but eventually he managed to push himself back out. Still there was a mess of wires, beams and insulation between him and John. _John_ – who was reaching for a section of wires that Dean knew were mostly stripped. That amount of power… Dean didn't know if _he _would be able to survive it, let alone a little boy.

'John – NO!'

Dean didn't even realize it was his voice as he threw himself forward. He couldn't make it in time. He _had _to make it in time.

In that moment when the attic lit up Dean couldn't breathe, and he was sure he could see the ghostly bones of a vibrating angel in front of him. But it wasn't an angel.

It was real.

It was John.

…

Sam's mouth was drifting along Susan's stomach, his hands sliding over her back when they heard the shout above them. They both shot up from the pillows in surprise, shock turning quickly to fear when the power suddenly cut out.

Sam felt a chill. It was like the daylight had cut out too. He was cold, very cold, and he was trapped in the darkness. He found it hard to breathe, and he was illogically afraid he'd be stuck there forever, that he _wanted _to be stuck there forever. Keira's scream tore through the black. The generator hummed as light was restored. Sam turned urgently to his wife. 'You get Keira. I'll go… up.'

Susan just nodded. They had heard the screamed words all too well: _John_. She didn't want to believe that anything had happened to him. But tears fell as Sam ran past her. He ran so fast he almost knocked the ladder out of place and he was halfway up it before he even realised. 

Sam hauled himself into the roof, the silhouette before him taking a second to become clear. It was Dean, hunched over, something in his arms.

'Is he okay?'

Dean could barely meet his brother's eye. How was he supposed to answer?

Sam's hoarse sob ripped through Dean as he clutched John.

He was still breathing.

He had to be.

…

The grey plastic chairs seemed like rows of tombstones, a forbidding omen to Susan as she paced between them, her voice echoing off the dirty white walls of the hospital. The smell of disinfectant made her want to retch. It wasn't helped either by the lump of fear burning in her belly. The cell phone seemed warm against her ear as she spoke to her sister.

'No we don't know how he's doing yet. Yeah, Sam's with him. No, I don't know what happened. I'm sorry –'

She paused, fighting for air through her sobs.

'Can… can you just look after Keira for a few days? I'll bring over some clothes and things for her soon. Thanks Carrie.'

Susan hung up on the call and immediately slumped against the wall, crying. At least her sister had Keira. Now she could just worry about her little boy.

'I… uh, brought you a coffee.'

Dean's voice was hesitant and he held the Styrofoam cup out like it was some sort of peace offering. Susan reached for it – and then smashed it out of Dean's hand. She was angry, so unbelievably angry, and she couldn't stop herself from screaming at him.

'HOW DARE YOU!' Sobs filled the spaces between the words. 'You were supposed to goddamn protect him! What the hell made you think it'd be okay for him up there? I mean _Jesus_, Dean! He's just a child. You should have known better. You should have stopped him in time!'

'I… I –'

Dean didn't know what to say, so he shut down in the face of Susan's grief, his expression emotionless as he stepped backwards away from her accusing voice – unnaturally harsh – in the near deserted hospital. It filled the halls with its metallic sound. Nurses watching the scene unfold through a half open door.

'You _what_? You WHAT Dean? Don't apologize. Don't. Just don't! John _always_ trusted you to keep him safe – hell, you could do no wrong in his eyes. But it's worse that that Dean. _We_, your brother and me, _we _trusted you. He's my baby, my little boy, and I'm supposed to keep him safe.' Susan turned her face away momentarily, but when she looked back her eyes flashed with renewed anger. 'But I didn't. I _let_ him hero-worship you, _knowing_ what you're like, knowing how quick you are to jump into danger. But even I thought you'd be better than to let him do it too.' Susan took a heaving breath before throwing one final barb. 'I thought you'd protect him. I really did Dean.'

She glared at him, trembling, the anger overwhelming her. She had always been the forgiving type, but her fear and her guilt had twisted until she found herself doing all she could to break that mask of Dean's. She wanted him to say something – anything. She couldn't stop herself. Not until she saw the young intern standing hesitantly by the door.

'What?' she snapped.

'Mrs. Winchester?' The man was looking at her expectantly and she nodded. 'I'm Dr. Radovich. I've been sent out to tell you that the little boy, John, he's going to be okay. He's sleeping now, but he'll be fine.'

It took a second. At first she just stood there. But when Susan finally realized what the doctor was saying, that her little boy would be all right, she crumbled. Dean stepped forward to support her, submitting to her stranglehold on his jacket and the wet patch seeping through his shirt.

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' she wept. He just nodded, holding her even as he turned to the doctor.

'Can we see him? I mean, I know he's sleeping, but can we go in?'

'Certainly. It'll be good for him to have his family around him when he wakes up. I'll show you the way.'

Dean looked back at Susan who was clinging to him, pale-faced.

'Don't you want to go see your son?' he asked her gently. 'He'll be waiting for you. Let me help you.'

Dean practically carried Susan down the hall until Sam appeared from a doorway further down. Then she ran, throwing herself into his arms, her relieved words coming too quickly for either brother to properly understand.

'I'll leave you here.'

The trio barely noticed as the doctor left. They were too focused on John. As they entered the room he shifted a little and moaned in his sleep.

Dean went over and stood by the bed, trying hard to not be noticed by either Susan or Sam as they enveloped each other in a tight embrace. His eyes were burning, his mind filled with the sound of Susan's voice. _You should have stopped him_. She was right of course. Dean could see every moment of the accident, especially the way his beloved nephew had radiated that blue light. There was no one else to blame but himself. He should have looked to see who was coming up the ladder. He should have been faster in getting to the little boy. 

Dean's chest tightened almost unbearably. John had opened up a whole new part of him. Sure he'd hero-worshiped his dad and would easily give his life up for his brother, but until John had been born Dean didn't know what it was like to love someone so much it actually hurt, to feel something so sweetly it ached against his ribcage every time he remembered it. For John, Dean would have done so much more than die. He would suffer for eternity to keep that child safe. Except he'd failed to do that, and worse, in some stupid _normal _accident that any family could have. If it was an evil creature Dean could have dealt with it, he could have fought it. But a live wire. A stupid live wire and he couldn't even stop that!

Dean was only able to let out a strangled grunt when he noticed his nephew's eyes opening, but his lack of response was made up for by John's parents who both raced over to hug him.

'Hey little man, you're okay, you're just fine now.' Sam's weary smile lit up his face.

Susan still had tears running down her cheeks. 'Oh my little baby, my angel. Mommy's got you now!'

Both of them were too busy talking and laughing to notice the way John looked straight up at Dean, too loud in their relief to hear his first words.

Dean heard them though.

'How come you didn't save me Uncle Dean?'

TBC   
A/N: So you see that little blue button there, that's it, to the left a little. Press it. Now you just have to put some words in the box and (that simple!) you made my day. Review! 


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I'm sorry this took me forever. If it's any consolation I had writer's block so bad it felt akin to having bamboo shoved under my fingernails, and I've been busy job-hunting because fun as this is it doesn't come with a paycheck (so clearly Supernatural isn't mine). It's a long chapter too, seriously just wouldn't end. Thank you for all the reviews, each one sent me into a frenzy of writing and I hope this is worth the wait.

**Warning:** I have language that would make your grandmother cringe (unless she's anything like mine). Anyway, don't tell me off for the swearing; I think it's all appropriate for the characters in the moment. Let's all just stick to Dean bashing.

**Chapter 3**

Susan's movements were nervy as she got ready for the hospital trip. Her son's giant teddy bear filled her arms and when she turned in the kitchen to collect her bag she knocked it off the bench.

'Shit!'

'Are you okay?'

Susan looked up to see Dean standing, arms folded, in the doorway.

She sighed looking down at the contents of her handbag, now scattered over the kitchen floor 'Sure. It's just… silly, I guess. I just want this to be right.'

'Of course you do,' said Dean reassuringly 'Can I do anything?'

'Uh…' She hesitated visibly. Dean's 'game face' was ready and waiting. 'Well, I actually wanted to give my sister a lift. She's been taking care of Keira and … you know.'

Dean did know. Susan's sister was coming to the hospital to pick up John, but so were her husband and kids – and there were only so many seats in the car. He frowned at the implication in her statement but decided not to comment.

'Sure. My baby needs a run anyway.'

Dean didn't miss the relief on his sister-in-law's face as he turned away, trying not to feel the sting of it. She didn't understand how much it hurt him to be on his own like that –_again._

Dean threw his keys up into the air, caught them, and then repeated the mindless action over again, enjoying the momentary reprieve from the guilt that had haunted him since John's accident. No one had brought it up, but Dean felt like he was dealing with his father's death all over again. The failed responsibility was choking him and all he could do was keep up his mask of indifference and be cloyingly helpful.

Anything to pretend it didn't hurt like hell.

Mechanically, Dean made his way to the car and drove to the hospital. It wasn't even until he'd turned the engine off that he realized he was the first one there. Normally that wouldn't be a problem; he'd have raced straight up to hang out with John. But he could still hear his nephew's waking words, hear the blame. So he restarted the car and turned the music up.

Metallica's _For Whom The Bell Tolls _was finishing just as the rest of the family arrived, and Dean smiled bleakly as he saw the small silver car that followed Susan's oversized, navy SUV.

_Just had to take your sister, huh?_

He pushed the pain at Susan's lie down with all his other issues, making it burn until he couldn't feel it anymore, until he was numb with the intensity of it all. Then he got out of the car.

'Hey!' he called out, his voice almost wavering. He took a breath before continuing. 'How was the drive?'

Susan's sister shot him a penetrating look (clearly she shared Susan's less than flattering sentiments) but her husband Seth favoured Dean with a grin. They had clicked on their first meeting, becoming instant if infrequent friends.

'Hey! How're you doing?'

Dean grinned back at him. 'I'm good. Ready to head off again, but you know, have to wait for the next job.' Seth thought he was a traveling salesman. 'You?'

Seth launched into a fully-fledged description of his latest business venture, requiring only the occasional nod or 'uh huh' from Dean who concentrated on the conversation in an effort to ignore the way Susan had turned her back on him, making a clear statement: I don't want you here.

…

Dean didn't follow everyone's surge forward as Sam wheeled John out of the hospital. His younger brother had been with John all morning. Dean had heard him leave around seven, but his emotions were too raw to get up and go with him. He'd just have felt in the way, like he did now.

Everyone was too absorbed in welcoming John with hugs and overpriced gifts to really notice as Keira wandered away, her attention captured by the passers by. She saw a soft doe eyed dog sitting across the street and instantly turned towards it. The dog noticed her and wagged its tail in greeting. Already able to feel the warm, soft fur under her fingers the little girl ran towards the animal.

John saw her first. His eyes widened in fear as he noticed the gaudily painted ice-cream truck swinging around the corner; too fast. The Labrador was barking, almost as though it knew what was about to happen.

'Keira! NO!'

John pushed himself up but everyone was standing, unaware, between the siblings, and his five years weren't enough to make him heard. He tried to stand but fell back, the pile of presents on his lap hitting the ground with a crash as the world started to slow down. 

Dean reacted first, having already turned around when he saw John's eyes widen, and he was running towards Keira before the little boy had called out. The truck driver's eyes opened in shock as he saw the situation unfolding and the screech of breaks and black smoke filled the air, bringing people running out of the hospital.

Dean leapt forward, shoving his niece out of the way of the vehicle. He twisted to stop her from getting hurt, landing awkwardly in the process. Holding her tightly as he rolled them out of the way of the truck.

He noticed a dog barking, somewhere, above the noise of the people rushing towards them.

A shocked Keira lay still for a second before bursting into tears as she realized what had happened. The little girl was safely in her daddy's arms by the time Dean was easing himself off the ground, his shoulder throbbing painfully. It felt dislocated. It was his gun arm too. _Damn_.

The driver sat at the wheel for a long time, staring into the distance before almost falling out of the truck, his over-eager apologies preceding him as he ran towards the group. Dean turned to him slowly, biting down against the pain in his shoulder.

'It's okay, she ran out in front of you. She's all right, that's what counts.'

His politely firm smile dismissed the stocky, middle-aged man, and the driver retreated gratefully to his van, driving off well below the speed limit. 

The pain in Dean's shoulder retreated briefly when he heard John say loudly: 'I knew Uncle Dean could save her.' Even Susan's frown barely registered. When Sam came over to thank him, Keira held securely in one arm, Dean couldn't help but grimace in pain.

'Are you okay Dean?' Sam pulled Dean's face towards him, looking fearfully into his eyes.

'It's my arm. Get off me.' He shoved Sam away before he tried to do anything else.

Sam turned to look for someone to help as a group of young nurses standing by the doorway pushed one of their number forward. Sam felt Dean grin at her, and she came running forward with a newfound confidence.

'Come to take me away?' Dean smiled at her again and let her lead him into the hospital. 

'_So now he's willing to go to hospital!'_ Sam laughed to himself. It was amazing what a pretty girl could get his big brother to do. Susan, standing impatiently behind him, interrupted his thoughts.

'We should take John home. Dean's car is here, so he has a way home'

Sam couldn't prevent an expression of horror from crossing his face at his wife's suggestion, made almost worse by the fact that she was normally so caring, reminding even him to be tactful sometimes.

'We can't just leave him here!'

Susan shot him an angry look. 'Well you can stay then. I'm taking the kids home.' Her voice had a hint of bitterness and Sam didn't respond. Even when John and Keira protested leaving their uncle and father behind he stood silently, allowing her to drag them away.

…

Sam stretched as he stood up. He'd been sitting on the bench outside the hospital for a good half hour, having been unable to find Dean in the over-sanitized maze of a hospital. Finally he spotted his brother sauntering towards him. 

'What took you so long?'

His brother flashed him a grin and held up a scrap of paper with a number written on it.

'I just found my favorite nurse.'

Sam couldn't help laughing. 'How's your arm? Do you want me to drive?'

Dean looked him up and down before handing him the keys and focusing his attention on the wall behind Sam. 'It's fine, but I'm not allowed to drive for twenty four hours or so.' Still looking resolutely at the wall, he asked, 'Where are Susan and the kids?'

'They'd had a big day. Susan wanted to get them home.'

Dean nodded once and Sam's heart constricted, but Dean was already striding towards the car park. Sam had missed the blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment when Dean was vulnerable enough to talk to. By now he'd be ready to fob Sam off with a smartass remark, one that would probably focus on Sam being a girl.

Dean had turned the stereo up too loudly for Sam to talk. He knew his little brother would want to have a heart to heart about his feelings – and worse – his _issues_, but Dean didn't really feel like dealing with anything other than a pillow. He knew Sam would be easily thrown off with an 'I'm tired' excuse. Even if Dean hadn't saved his little girl, Sam was too easy on his brother, but Dean knew that ran both ways. It was Susan that Dean was worried about. Usually she was willing to step back and let Sam and Dean deal with Sam and Dean. But then usually she didn't ignore Dean at every given opportunity.

Dean forehead was still wrinkled in thought as they got out of the Impala and walked towards the house. He forced himself to relax as Sam let them through the front door. Susan greeted them in the hallway.

'You're home.' Her smile faltered as it passed over Dean and she slipped into Sam's arms before even bothering to ask him about his shoulder. 

'All fixed,' he smirked, choosing to ignore Susan's attitude. 'And I found my new favorite nurse,' he added. 'She even offered to kiss it better.'

Rather than relaxing at his joking attitude, Susan snapped back, 'She was what, twenty-two? It's incredibly unbecoming of you to still be drooling over girls barely out of nappies Dean!'

The cruel words fired Dean's temper and he retorted angrily, '_Actually_, she was twenty-seven. And I don't drool. She came over to me, remember?'

'You don't think your little accident had anything to do with it?' Susan said scathingly. 'And you can't possibly think that that grin of yours had _no_ effect on her'

Dean was angry now. 'My _little accident_? Did you forget the part where I saved your daughter? Or are you just planning to overlook that detail?'

He ignored his brother who was reaching out to stop him and pushed past Susan, storming up the stairs. The door to his room banged shut.

'Oh trust him to behave like a three year old!' Susan was about to continue he remonstrations, but Sam interrupted her.

'Don't.' He shook his head at her further protest and followed Dean's path up the staircase.

'What he needs is a good woman,' Susan muttered to herself. 'One his own age'

…

Dean could hear Sam standing outside the door. Part of him wanted to open it and let Sam in, talk to him like they used to when they traveled together; but Dean's stubbornness won out. _His house, he can make the first move._ Dean sat stoically on the bed, waiting for Sam to knock.

Sam stood, arms crossed outside the closed door, debating whether or not to push Dean any further. He heard the creak of the bedsprings and turned away. _Maybe he's resting, he should be resting_, he thought, almost able to pretend it was a good enough excuse.

…

Dean suppressed a sigh of boredom. The smell of roast chicken had eventually drawn him out of his room, only to find one of Susan's conveniently single friends waiting for him.

'Ellen, why don't you tell us the story about Danny?' Susan's suggestion even got a tired look from Sam. They had been listening to Ellen's teaching stories for a good two hours. For once the children had gone to bed willingly and both brothers had suppressed the urge to join them.

Dean's mind was drifting and it took him a second to realize that the tinny Metallica tunes belonged to his phone. 'I, uh, have to get this,' he muttered as he dashed gratefully from the room.

'Dean Winchester.' His tone was instantly professional. The call was probably be from another hunter, and his job was something Dean always took seriously.

'Hey man, it's Jason. I hope I'm not interrupting, I'm just having some trouble with a hunt.'

Dean smiled at hearing the young man's voice. He had been at the roadhouse nearly six years ago when Jason had stumbled in, still running from the thing that killed his parents. He, like so many before him, had been determined to become a hunter and before he knew what he was doing Dean found Jason in the passenger seat while they drove towards a vampire nest. These days he wasn't the only hunter who called Dean for help.

'It's fine, good to hear from you. What's the problem?'

'I'm out in California, dealing with a hitchhiking spirit; she's been murdering the drivers who pick her up. Trouble is, her grave's empty. Apparently she committed suicide, jumped off the edge of a dam. Her body was never found.'

'Do you know why she jumped?'

'Her kids died, tragic really, they drowned while having a bath.'

'Drowned on purpose, or accidental drowning?' Jason's story sounded familiar.

'Well there's nothing to say that anyone did it. Why, what do you think's going on Dean?'

'It sounds like one of the apparitions I dealt with when I was hunting with Sammy. Have you ever heard of a woman in white?' He didn't think his protégé would have, it was a rare legend. 'Sometimes when a woman is betrayed by her husband she goes a little crazy. Well a lot crazy. Occasionally they murder their children; after they realize what they have done they often kill themselves. They turn into spirits that are hell-bent on destroying cheating men.'

'Well, that could be it. All the people who died were men, as far as I can tell they all had girlfriends. But how do I stop it? There's no body so I can't salt and burn the bones.'

'The one Sam and I dealt with, she was afraid to go home, face her children. After we took her into the house, they had a little reunion and then vanished.'

'That's it?' Jason sounded surprised 'But how do I get her to go into the house?'

'Uh, Sam had her in the car, drove through a wall'

Dean heard a snort of disbelief.

'You _let _him drive the Impala through a wall?'

'Well he didn't really ask.' Dean was laughing, imagining the younger hunter's facial expression, but he sobered enough to ask, 'Are you going to be okay? Want me to come out there and be your backup?'

'You just want to save my ass again,' chuckled Jason. 'Just to prove you can. I'll be fine, I promise.'

'I could save you blindfolded,' teased Dean.

'No doubt.' Jason hero worshipped Dean and was convinced he could do anything.

'Well look, call me when you're done, so I know you're okay.' Dean was known for continuing to take good care of the hunters he taught, long after he'd finished training them. It was just one of the reasons many budding hunters sought him out.

'Sure. Talk to you then.'

'Absolutely. See you round.'

Dean flipped his phone shut before shoving it back into his pocket. _I should have kept him on the phone longer_, he thought, realizing he'd have to go back into the lounge room and listening to Ellen talk about yet another snot-nosed kid. But there was nothing for it now. He took a breath before shoving the door open, immediately noticing the way the murmured conversation stopped as the three members of the room turned to face him. By the looks on their faces Dean knew they had been talking about him, and he hardly thought they were singing his praises.

Ellen was the first to speak. 'I really should get going,' she said, pushing back her chair and standing up.

'Sure.' Susan jumped into action, stacking the coffee cups one on top of the other, including Dean's full one. 'Dean, why don't you show Ellen out,' she instructed.

Dean couldn't believe she was still trying. He jerked his head in acquiescence before turning on one heel. He didn't speak until they reached the door.

'Have a safe drive home then.'

Ellen smiled at him, and he almost liked her then. 'Thanks, have a good night. And good luck with your job.'

He smiled, the first time she'd received an open Dean-grin. He saw her blush as he closed the door.

It took Dean a long time to turn away from the door. He could hear Sam and Susan talking and from the sounds of their voices he thought it was about him. He considered sneaking past, but he knew they would see him cross the living room entrance. _Damn open plan houses_.

He unconsciously tightened his jaw as he walked towards what he thought of as impending doom. He could hear what they were saying now.

'So Ellen's not really his type, Kathy's much more outgoing – I'm sure they'd get along. We could invite her over … Wednesday maybe.'

'Or you could stop trying to set me up,' Dean interrupted. 'Y'know, just for variety's sake.'

Sam at least had the grace to look embarrassed. Susan had no such qualms. 'Well you're hardly doing a good job of it yourself.'

'I can pick up!' Dean responded, annoyed. 'And what does it matter? It's not like I plan on settling down anytime soon.'

'That's the trouble Dean,' Susan said, her face a mask of exasperation. 'You can't just keep on traveling along with no plans for the future. I mean do you even know where you want to be in five years time?'

'On the road hunting,' Dean grinned. 'It's my ten year plan too.'

'Dean – ' Sam took the pleading approach. 'You can't just keep hunting forever. And you should retire from it soon, before you get yourself killed.'

'Dad never planned to retire,' defended Dean.

'Yeah and look where it got him! One day you won't escape. You have to stop risking your life!'

'Jesus Sammy, Dad didn't die because he was a bad hunter; you know how that went down.' Dean felt his eyes burning but pushed the feeling away angrily. 'And I'm a good hunter. Hell, I'm one of the best! If normality is my future I'd rather you shot me now.'

Susan's lips were pressed together in a distinctly disapproving look. She opened her mouth but Dean cut in first.

'Don't bother. Sam, outside. Now.'

He was halfway down the hall when he heard Sam. 'Leave it. Let me deal with it, he listens to me.'

…

Dean leaned against the passenger door of his car as Sam shut the door, pulling a jacket on as he did so.

'What the hell is going on?' Dean demanded.

Sam's tone was pleading 'We care about you Dean.'

'The hell you do! You know normality is your thing. If you cared you'd just let me do what I do best'

'Not when what you do best is hunting things that could kill you _and_ almost manage to way too often!'

'But they _don't_ kill me Sammy. Sure some come close, but I'm still here aren't I?'

'You are now. But there's always a first time, and when you're playing with your life you don't get a second chance. What would I tell John and Keira if you didn't make it? How would I protect them from that?'

Dean's expression was full of the painful memories of the second chances he _had_ gotten at the expense of others. 'I know the risks in my job. And you know the risks of turning me into Mr. White Bread. How would you explain to your kids that the lifestyle you forced me into was the reason why I blew my brains out? Really Sam, how the fuck would you explain that?'

Sam looked hurt. Dean's breathing was heavy as he recovered from the force of his outburst. 'Sammy I can't do this. I need you to find me a new hunt'

'Why am I the one always finding the hunts?' Sam's tone was sulky.

'I find plenty of my own hunts. Anyway, you asked to help.' Dean couldn't figure out what was going on with his brother. 'When you left the job for Susan you wanted to stay a part of it.'

'Sure, when I didn't have kids to worry about, when I didn't have a whole _life_ to protect'

'What has finding me jobs got to do with protecting your family? It's not like I _ever_ let anything follow me. With the things I kill there's one less evil thing to _hurt_ your kids. And the rest of the world.'

'Are you really that stupid Dean? Can't you see the way John worships you, the way he wants to do _everything_ like his 'Uncle Dean'? Before long he's going to want to go on hunts with you, and I don't know that you'll turn him down. Sure, you do now, but not when he's seventeen. But, if he ends up like you – reckless like you, I'll fucking kill you Dean.' Sam's eyes flashed dangerously and he stared at his brother in a completely defiant, unlike-Sam way.

Dean stood utterly still for a second, then his face contorted in pain before he pushed past his brother, walking around the car to rip open the driver's door, slamming it shut behind him. 'Screw you,' he said, not even looking at Sam, 'but you get your wish. No more _reckless_ big brother. No more big brother at all. And you know what Sam' – this time he turned his injured gaze on his sibling, wanting to hurt Sam like his brother had hurt him – 'don't expect me to just be ready and waiting when you want me again. You never answered my calls back when you left. Now it's your turn to be left behind. Don't bother calling.'

The roar of the engine filled the air between them. Sam jumped back, managing to get out of the way of the car, but he was still hit by the gravel that followed the Impala's rapid exit.

'Dean – '

But it was too late.

**TBC.**

**A/N:** So the next chapter will probably be short, especially after this one. But it has to be there. I promise it'll get really interesting soon.

And now it's time to press the little button to the left, down a bit. There we go. And I've decided to make it really easy for you, whilst the long personal reviews are my favorites; the one line is all I need. And all you have to do is copy and paste.

'It's brilliant! Why weren't you writing for Supernatural again…?'

'This is good keep going.'

'Yeah, good. Keep going, whatever.'

'I can't believe people even let you near a word processor. Get off the site and go cry in a corner.'

See. I don't know how I can make it any easier for you. Please do review. (and yes that was supposed to be humorous, not I don't mind if you actually do c&p).


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** So this took me longer than expected but finally it's here. Thankyou so much to the people that did review, they were lovely and I enjoyed reading every single one. As usual my wallet is bare and my bed is Dean-less so I still don't Supernatural. As usual thanks to Bron but also a big thanks to the Supernaturals who did most of the Beta-ing this time. I know this one's short but I hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter Four.**

Dean gave the deserted motel a once-over, then leaned back into his car and grabbed the bottle of whiskey he'd left there. The place was shabby at best; with a layer of dirt over everything and a sign that sparked dangerously whenever someone bothered to turn on the lights. It was exactly the reason Dean had chosen this place; because all you got was a surly inspection from the manager at the front desk and no questions.

It took Dean a little longer than usual to find his room. The two had fallen off the twelve, leaving only a clean spot that seemed at first a trick of the eye, but eventually he was inside, surveying the musty carpet and single bed. The floorboards creaked as he crossed the room, and he treaded carefully, not wanting to fall through a patch of rotted wood. The kitchen made him stop and stare again. Everything, from the fridge to the cabinets, was enamel-coated in a sickly shade of pea soup green.

Dean pulled open one of the cupboards and swore when it came off in his hand, revealing a startled mouse that hissed at him angrily before bolting off. He gingerly opened the following cupboards, looking for glasses, but gave up when he found the remains of the mouse's ancestors. He chose instead to take a long drink straight from the bottle before sitting down heavily at the table.

The liquid burned its way down his throat and Dean tipped the bottle back again, longer this time, trying to dull the memories that were assaulting him, not just from the previous night but also from the first time Sam left - the time he left for Stanford.

Part of Dean acknowledged that Sam had left their father too, but mostly he just blamed John. After all, it was their father who had pushed Sam constantly, and he was the one that finally snapped, told Sam to get out, to get out and never come back.

It had taken a long time for Dean to forgive the man he'd previously hero worshipped, and the blame was easier to deal with than the grief at losing his brother, of losing the reason he got up every morning knowing he'd have to face the things that merely haunted the dreams of his peers.

At first he'd just challenged his father, pushing at him the way Sam had, but eventually he'd left, not with the yelling and the drama that had followed Sam, instead, he'd slipped over the salt line and disappeared out into the night.

He used to just stare at his phone for days, the screen lit up with his little brother's name, willing himself to pick up the phone and hit the call button. He knew it wasn't supposed to be that hard to call your own brother, but he didn't want to admit what that might mean. He didn't want to face the fact that they hadn't exactly been raised like brothers.

Eventually, he had gotten the courage to call, at first hanging up before it even started to ring. But eventually he waited, counting the rings. Waiting. Still, Sam never came to the phone, never picked up, and Dean realized that no matter how many messages he left, Sam wasn't going to call him back. He wasn't going to, because he hadn't just abandoned their father and he hadn't just abandoned the life of a hunter – he'd abandoned the brother who would throw his life away in a second to save him.

When John Snr. finally tracked Dean down he was so drunk he could barely see through bloodshot eyes to mutter, 'Dad?' It was only the knowledge that Dean wouldn't remember it in the morning that allowed his father to respond:

'I'm sorry, son. Sorry for everything.'

…

He remembered, too, the time after their dad died. After he told Sam what their dad had said. Sam had left him again, sneaking off so he couldn't follow him; couldn't protect him. It had been hard to call everyone they knew, pretending that he was just worried and angry. Ellen's, 'Are you okay, honey?' had almost disarmed him, and he was grateful that she ignored the shaky breath before he answered her.

At least then he'd been able to mask his real hurt with worry for Sam, especially after he ran into Gordon and heard his plans. Actually, it was just like Sam to run off and get both of them into a lot of trouble. The time before that he'd met Meg and they'd spent weeks escaping her before Dean finally exorcised the demon, still too late to save Pastor Jim and Caleb.

That was why, when Dean had first met Susan and seen the devoted puppy-dog look in Sam's eyes, he had initially refused to like her, ignoring all the times she went out of her way to gain his approval, knowing how much his approval meant to Sam.

Dean knew Sam had told her. About what they did for a living. They'd had a huge argument about it not so long ago, but he hadn't expected her to bring it up so casually. The way she'd said, simply, that no matter how committed she and Sam were the brothers should keep going, that Sam shouldn't stop hunting the Demon just because he'd met her. And she was happy to wait till then, to find out what should happen next. Then she'd turned to Dean, smiled, and said: 'Couldn't we find a way for Sammy to be there for you and here for me?'

It seemed like a second later that Sam came up with the idea – that he'd help his brother find hunts. And it was Susan who suggested that they could make sure Dean had a place to come and rest at when he was between jobs.

Dean had told Sam to marry her that night.

That was why it had hurt so much when their behaviour changed, when her behaviour changed. Dean had opened up to Susan, almost as much as he did with Sam. He trusted her completely and not even his brother knew how much stronger he was for having a place where he could just be safe, where they knew his favourite foods; and where his most pressing worry was how best to entertain his niece and nephew.

On the rare occasions Susan had complained about the effects of Dean's lifestyle Sam had always defended him, placating her with the knowledge that the things Dean hunted were one less thing to hurt their kids. But Susan had never been this pushy, she'd always limited herself to sharing her fears with Sam, letting him soothe them so that she could sleep soundly instead of lying awake terrified for her children. Dean understood that. He'd never told either of them, but there had even been a few hunters more than willing to hurt the children, and to make Dean a willing helper in their less-than-virtuous dealings. After Dean dealt with them they never hunted again.

Susan was worse than usual, but Sam had barely bothered to defend him, and that hurt more than anything else. He loved Susan, and her behaviour had hurt him deeply, but it was Sam's lack of faith that really cut him to the bone. It was a long time since he and Sam had really fought, and Dean thought he'd gotten past the emotions connected to Sam's numerous disappearances, his rejections. But now all the hurt felt bloody and new.

Dean wasn't sure how he could cope with this. He just wanted to forget, but unlike Sam who seemed to forget him all too easily, Dean couldn't put it out of his mind. Worse he couldn't stop remembering.

A sober Dean would have struggled harder against his despair, but he'd gotten through more than half of the bottle and it hit him fast. He hadn't eaten since dinner with Sam and Susan… he didn't want to think about that. Dean pushed himself upright and stumbled over to the bed. He still had the bottle in his hand, so he propped himself up and drank the rest in one go before dropping the empty bottle on the floor.

The bed creaked beneath him as he lay back down. He thought he heard his phone ringing, but it didn't matter. It would only be Sam, ignoring what he said and calling him anyway. Dean felt his eyes burning and he pressed them into the pillow, ignoring the damp stains seeping from them.

His phone was on the table. The name on the screen read 'Jason'.

…

Dean woke blearily, minutes, hours, days, later… At first he thought he was hung-over, but then he realized the whiskey was still flowing through his veins. He was still drunk. The bed beneath him felt harder than it had before, and rougher, like rock. He looked down at it, and realized he couldn't see properly. In the dark it looked like it actually was rock.

Dean rolled over gingerly, feeling like he was in one of Sam's visions. The motel room was dark and to his blurry eyes the walls seemed more like cave walls than those belonging to an old building. And it was so cold; there was a draft of air coming from somewhere near his feet. He tried to sit up, worry seeping through his fuzzy thoughts, and saw a full moon. Well, he saw three, but it was enough to calm him. _Window's open. That's it._

He lay back down. As he closed his eyes, he thought he heard a cackle of wicked laughter, but sleep had claimed him before he'd given it a thought.

He wouldn't remember the dream in the morning, wouldn't realize that there were no windows in his little, airless room. Even if he did remember, he would just dismiss it as a harmless dream.

And that was one of the most foolish mistakes a hunter could make.

**TBC.**

**A/N:** Like I said it's short but I needed it. I hope you like the way I played Dean in this chapter, I needed to get into the vulnerability thing which even the scriptwriters avoid. So I hope you like it. Please review and let me know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **While the writers strike'd be a great excuse for the time I took to do this I've got nothing to do with Supernatural, or any other TV show while we're at it.

**AN:** Um. I know. You thought I was dead. After a few nights out I'd have agreed. Seems I'm alive. I'm going to use turning 18 and then suddenly having a life as an excuse, even if it is the flimsy kind you totally know will fall over if you look at it too hard.

Drinking game for you: Have a shot of Tequila (or a purple nurple if you want to be closer to Dean) every time you spot something that continuity got lost on or a mistake or hell even a sentence you don't like. (And bonus for me, by the end you so won't remember why you were grumpy at me … wait you love me, like a sister, no really you're not just saying that b/c you're drunk)

**Chimera – Chapter 5**

Circe walked slowly up the stairs, enjoying the long limbs of her favorite form, a breathtakingly beautiful woman with raven hair chopped just above her clear, grey eyes and again below her shoulders.

She paused at the top of the staircase where a patch of the cream wall was missing, in its place the grey-green of rough, moss-covered stone. She placed her hands over the area, visibly concentrating. The smooth painted wall seemed to liquefy and cream paint oozed to cover the gap. Once there was no longer any sign of the hidden surface Circe surveyed her handiwork and smiled.

Circe took great pride in her handiwork and regularly did this 'retouching'. It was one of the reasons she'd lasted longer than the others like her. But she wasn't just here for that, she had other plans and she didn't have long to carry them out. She turned left in the hallway and paused in the first doorway. In the room beyond it a man lay sprawled across the double bed, a lock of his floppy hair hanging low over his brow. His breathing was deep, but as she stood there watching him he sensed her there and struggled towards wakefulness. She held one hand out towards him and muttered under her breath. If he woke in time to see her, her plans would come undone. It was always the way with people like him… the ones who knew about her kind.

After making sure his breathing held the heaviness of her spell, Circe turned and walked further down the hall, past the door postered with the name 'John' and a trio of racing cars, to the half open door decorated in pink and white.

Circe slipped into the room and stopped for a moment in the eerie light of the glow-in-the-dark fairies and stars scattered across the walls and ceiling. She smiled at the dark haired girl lying peacefully in her bed before she bent over, running one long-fingered hand along her face. The little girl whimpered in her sleep.

'Hush, Keira. Sshhh… just listen to me now.'

The girl's eyes didn't open, but she turned her face towards Circe, listening. Circe responded by whispering in a singsong voice a series of words, older than Latin but clearly holding power in her mouth.

As she spoke the girl began to writhe, her mind filled with dark imagery.

_Her mother leaned over her, whispering words that initially cooled her fears but then turned hot on her tongue. Keira looked up and her mother's teeth seemed for a moment like fangs. She shouted out in terror, turning her head away. In the dark her mother's eyes seemed yellow, but when her mother called out to her Keira automatically turned back – just in time to see her now blood soaked mother be consumed by flames._

…

Keira woke screaming and sobbing in terror. She thought she saw someone in her room, the after-image of a woman, and this only served to agitate her even more. Instinctively she fled, down the hall and into the room where her father was sitting, pulling himself groggily out of his own dreams.

'Are you okay honey?'

It was a question she didn't have to answer as he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her safe as she cried against his chest.

'It was awful Daddy! There was Mommy but she was _mean_, and then she was Mommy again only she was hurt… oh and daddy there was a fire!'

Sam's face creased in sorrowful remembrance of his own mother's death and he hugged his daughter even more tightly.

'Aw, honey that sounds terrible, but you know what – it was just a dream, and now you're awake and I won't let anything happen to you. Or Mommy. And you know she would never be mean, especially to you. Honey, she loves you. I promise she's safe with your Auntie.'

The little girl was looking up at him with wide eyes, slowly calming down simply because of her trust in him, her belief that he could fix anything. But at this last comment she paused before asking quietly:

'What about Uncle Dean? Mommy was mean to him, doesn't she love him?'

Sam would have sworn he actually felt his heart tear a little at the question. He took a long breath, thinking, before he answered.

'Of course Mommy loves Uncle Dean, but mommies love uncles … differently… and sometimes when other things are making them upset they pretend they're okay and get upset at each other instead.'

Already Sam missed his brother. He glanced at his phone lying on the bed-stand and instantly looked away. He couldn't. Sure he'd never gotten a call from one of his brother's phones, but the calls from various motels lined up across the country were hardly going to be the Ghost of John Winchester making contact. He didn't want it to be like last time when he was too busy to pick up the phone, too busy counting the rings and debating his decision.

He couldn't do that to his brother.

Sam's thoughts were interrupted by Keira's next question.

'But does Uncle Dean know that Mommy isn't upset with him? Because he ran away, and I wouldn't run away if I knew mommy was just pretending not to love me.'

How come she knew exactly where it would hurt most?

'I … uh, well… that's how Uncle Dean makes himself feel better – he drives somewhere far away.'

_And drinks too much_. But he could hardly say that to her.

'Daddy?' He hated to admit it, but he was so preoccupied with his concerns about Dean that his first thought was, _'What now?'_

'Do you promise that it will be okay?'

'Yeah, I promise Keira,' Sam said fiercely. He never wanted her to know about what was waiting outside. He didn't want to be the same as his father who had raised him to fear so much.

'Can I stay in here?'

Sam nodded and lay back down, letting his daughter curl up into him.

Enveloped in her father's strong embrace, Keira fell asleep almost instantly. Sam lay awake for longer, his eyes heavy with unshed tears.

…

By the time Susan returned home, dark circles under her eyes from a sleepless night with her sister, their friends, and a few too many bottles of wine, Sam was already up and dressed.

He turned from the bench where he was spooning porridge into three bowls. 'Hey honey, do you want some? We've got enough.'

She just shook her head in response, wincing as she did. 'I think painkillers are all I need.'

Sam laughed, the smile transforming his face. 'Leave your stuff in the car then, I'll get it out once the kids have a meal to silence them.'

'God I love you.'

'Love you too.' Sam's response sounded suddenly tired and worn, and Susan grimaced at the sound as she left the room.

…

It was late afternoon when Susan woke up; the only evidence of the room being disturbed was her overnight bag in the corner. She forced herself up, her limbs still heavy from sleep. She needed to talk to Sam, but ever since Dean left he hadn't been himself and had almost gone out of his way to not have a proper conversation with her.

'Sammy, baby, where are you?'

'Lounge room.'

She was nervously chewing her lower lip when she walked in. Sam was sitting on the couch, staring into space. She thought for a moment that he was crying, his features dark. But his cheeks were still dry when he looked up at her.

'You wanted something,' he said, voice husky

'I'm sorry baby,' Susan said, 'I'm so sorry, but I can't do this. We need some time together. Away from the real world.'

'You know you didn't even ask where the kids were,' said Sam absently, ignoring her suggestion.

'Oh, I'm sorry…' Taken aback, Susan guessed quickly. 'Keira would be at dance. Is John at a friend's house?'

'You know it sounds more sincere when it's not in response to something. But yeah, John's at a friend's house. Jacob's.' Sam's tone was aggressive, not quite enough to confront him about, but more than enough to make Susan know how he felt.

'Sam. Don't do this. Please. You can't push me away, it's not going to solve anything.' Part of her couldn't believe she was resorting to pleading.

'Yeah but taking out all your issues on Dean? That's just a classy way of deal with your problems isn't it _honey_?' Sam's hostility had come to the forefront now, his voice laced with sarcasm.

It was all Susan could do not to cry, though she could feel her eyes burning.

'I'm so sorry, Sam. But you can't put all the blame on me for that. It was you that told him to go! I know you regret it now, but your guilt is tearing all of us apart!'

The tears had started to fall now, taking flecks of leftover mascara with them, and her voice rose.

'I just think we should get away, go to the cabin, spend some time as a family. Once we're together we can get Dean back.'

Sam nodded, his jaw stiff as he pushed out a last sentence. 'I just don't know how much damage he'll do in the meantime.'

'He won't do anything he can't come back from. We should leave this weekend, I'll pack.'

Sam just nodded. Susan waited a moment before leaving. It was only moments later that Sam's face was damp with tears that lined his cheeks and pooled on the collar of his shirt.

'Dean,' he whispered.

**AN:** Can you still see? If you answered yes then you get the FABULOUS reward of reviewing. C'mon I'll post faster AND I came up with a supernatural drinking game … speaking of which hands up if you love the one on youtube?


	6. Chapter 6

RANDOM SCENE

**Disclaimer:** Unless it's a really, really good dream I don't know anyone involved in Supernatural and I don't own anything about Supernatural. The story and the OC's are all I can lay claim to.

**A/N:** Um, so this took longer than I planned. And it looks like I've done nothing. But the next chapter will be up tomorrow-ish I just needed to split them. Hope you'll forgive me.

**Chapter 6**

Sam was going perfectly, Circe was more than pleased with her work, she should only have to make one or two more visits to have everything play into her hands. In the mean time she needed to deal with Dean, he was still a wild card and looking into his memories only reinforced her worry that despite everything he'd go back to his brother.

She appeared straight into the hotel room reverberating with Dean's snores and looked around. 'Way to choose the décor' but she wasn't here to fix up some crappy motel, what she was here for had passed out on the bed.

Dean hadn't even made it under the covers when he stumbled over to the bed, his shirt off revealing well worked muscles shifting with each intake of breath. Circe wished she could spend more time with him, really enjoy having him but she couldn't risk getting distracted now, no matter how pretty her prey.

She quickly unbuttoned his jeans, grabbing the bottom to pull them off 'oh he _is_ pretty.' Circe couldn't help admiring the near-naked male before her as she snaked closer. But she wasn't done yet; she had to make this convincing so Circe slid her fingers under Dean's boxers pulling them off. She threw them over her shoulder as she pulled the blankets from under Dean, covering him haphazardly with them.

Circe pulled off her simple gown, wrinkling her nose, that outfit wouldn't suit the scene; she threw the garment across the room where it changed into jeans and a tight tee. She waved her hand across her body before removing her newly acquired underwear, flinging this too across the room. Now she could get to the fun part. She slid under the blankets, pressing her body up against Dean; he sighed in his sleep and shifted, automatically pulling her closer.

Circe closed her eyes, snuggling into him.

**A/N:** OK let us all take a minute to loathe this Circe woman. Getting near our Dean, what a bitch! And Then let's all get distracted by the idea of a half naked Dean.

C'mon review. You know you want to. And the next chapter will be up very soon I'm just polishing off the edges for you!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven Disclaimer: I'm still not the owner/ an owner/ in any way connected to Supernatural. Which is why I have to do things like think about selling my art to get out of my boring job. (instead of checking out the talent...ed, hardworking cough actors)

A/N HOLY SMOKE! I'm uploading two chapters without a ridiculously-long-nearly-six-month break in between. Have I been replaced by mutant aliens? Regular aliens? Some kind of demon that imitates people who do their homework on time? (Or fics once they've graduated) You could call on our favourite boys to come round to my place and 'investigate' or you could just read the fic ... either way ... Chapter Seven

Susan turned to look at the sullen children slumped in the back seat. Keira's eyes were drooping, emphasizing her pout; John, however, was wide awake and glaring, his short arms crossed tightly.

'C'mon, aren't you excited to be going to the cabin? Two weeks off school!'

Susan's attempt to cheer them failed dismally. Keira just let out a whine, and John responded, '_But what about Uncle Dean_?'

It was becoming a familiar litany, this trip's version of Are We There Yet? Susan didn't bother to protest this time. She'd tried everything she could think of to convince the children that her brother in law would be fine, but they hadn't given up on him. Sam wasn't helping either, scowling at the long stretch of highway ahead, oblivious to events inside the car.

…

The road seemed to be flashing red with Sam's headache. He wished Susan would leave the kids alone, leave the Dean thing alone, but she persisted every few miles in begging the kids to cooperate with her 'holiday'. The sound of the same placating words was starting to grate. He knew it was his headache making things worse, but he couldn't help the slow tightening of his jaw just the same.

The headache had started at almost three that morning, forcing him out of bed and into the cool garage where he double-checked that everything was packed for the trip. The mindless, repetitive task was a good distraction from the dream he'd known was going to plague him all day.

…

Sam was standing in a muddy street, Yellow-Eyes metres away, beckoning to him. He felt himself walking forward until the demon clapped a hand on his shoulder and the scene changed to his nursery. His mother turned towards them, opened her mouth to say something, but Sam felt like he was underwater; he couldn't hear what she was saying. As he leaned forward, trying to listen, he was thrown against a wall by unseen powers and dragged to the ceiling. He was sobbing by the time the blaze started; as he breathed in he tasted cookies and almost thought he could see a handwritten note.

_He reeled back – 'Not Jess too!' and tripped, falling into a soft double bed. _I won't do it, I won't open my eyes. Not again. _But when he felt the drop of hot, sticky blood hit his forehead, he automatically opened his eyes and called out as his college girlfriend went up in flames. For a second he thought he saw Susan's face instead of Jess', and gasped in horror as the dream cut out, throwing him into wakefulness. _

…

As he'd remembered the dream, the headache had come. But it _was _just a dream. He and Dean had killed Yellow-Eyes years ago, and he hadn't had any visions since. Everything about the demon was gone, even Hell had reorganized itself. Jess and his mom were just memories. But Susan was alive and well next to him, trying _again _to get the kids to comply.

…

Sam told himself the whole journey that it was just a dream, and took the turnoff automatically, coming back to the present as a flurry of gravel from the ungraded road bounced loudly off the side of the car.

Susan sighed loudly, the complaints about damage visible to Sam's sideways glance. He pressed his lips closer together. He noticed the kids had become oddly silent, picking up on the foul mood between their parents. He wanted to pull them out of it. Sam never wanted to be the kind of parent who let his kids see the bad stuff, even just in their parent's relationships, and so far he'd managed. But this time his children were onto him, and he didn't know how to fix it.

As the cabin came into view, Sam's attention focused on pulling the car smoothly into the carport Dean had built next to the house. When he'd eased the brake all the way down he leaned back in his seat, reaching for the handbrake so slowly Susan was already out of the car by the time it creaked into position.

'Come on kids,' she cajoled, her voice singsong and too bright, 'let's get inside and open all the windows while Daddy brings our stuff in.'

Sam knew his wife was only trying to fill the chasm between them all, but her voice still managed to press down on him, making his head throb with each syllable. He unconsciously pressed the fingers of one hand into his temple, rubbing slightly until his fingertips went white with the pressure. Slowly, he elbowed the door open and eased himself out, trying to move his head as little as possible as he staggered to the trunk of the car.

Hands filled with sports bags full of clothes, he inhaled and exhaled slowly, the coping method lasting him until he made it to the kitchen and chased down a couple of painkillers with metallic-tasting tank water.

The next few hours fell into place easily, filled with cabin routine: chop wood, stack the logs in the fireplace, turn on the generator. By the time he had finished, Susan had already stripped all the beds and re-made them before turning her attention to cooking a meal for dinner.

The smell of thick tomato and herb pasta sauce served to bring the family closer together than anything else Susan had tried so far. It was a typical meal for their first night at the cabin and the memories of past trips prompted John to her side, fingers kept out of the sauce only with her stern utterance, 'Hot!' Sam wandered into the kitchen soon after, conscious of making an effort. He scraped a chair out from the table and pulled Keira onto his knee.

'Can I help, honey?'

Susan shook her head, enjoying the mother role and skilfully grating cheese and keeping the sauce simmering with the occasional whirl of a wooden spoon.

Unfortunately, the magic didn't hold when the food made it to the table, though they did try. Sam commented on the meal, compliments that normally sat easily between their lazy smiles, but now sounded awkward, forced. Susan's responses were equally fake, and John and Keira sat quietly, eating without the usual havoc that was feeding children.

They went through the motions all night, sharing a bottle of wine and sitting up by the fire long after the children had gone to bed. It was nearly midnight when Sam dragged his eyes away from the last dregs of wine in his glass and pulled himself off the couch.

'I'm gonna turn in. I'll see you in the morning.'

Susan looked up at him, her eyes still far away, and mumbled, 'Sure honey, sweet dreams.'

Sam dropped his glass off in the kitchen and steered himself towards the bedroom, unzipping his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt as he walked up the stairs. He barely managed to drag off his jeans before sleep's pull overwhelmed him and he collapsed into bed.

…

He was standing in a nursery. A streetlight shone through the open window, highlighting the crib pushed up against the powder-blue wall. It took Sam a second to notice the woman in a cream nightgown leaning over the cradle, her blonde hair floating around her shoulders and falling to cover her face.

'_Mom?'_

_Sam's voice was hoarse, almost a whisper. She turned towards him. He still couldn't see her face and took a step forward, pushing his eyes to see through the gloom. Suddenly, he felt a wall of heat and light hit him, forcing him to recoil, eyes squeezed tightly shut. _

_For a moment he was nothing, floating in darkness until warmth from above pulled his awareness back to the room. He looked up in dread._

_She was there. As he knew she would be, the blonde woman, stuck to the roof. The fire spread out in slow motion around her as he looked from the bloody gash written across her stomach to her face, contorted in terror. Not his mother's face._

_Susan's face._

…

Sam just managed to hold himself up as he leapt out of bed, stumbling over his abandoned clothes and into the bathroom. He spun the tap until it was pelting water and stuck his face into the spray, using one hand to scoop the cold liquid over his head.

The iciness of it jerked him into full wakefulness, helping to dispel the feverish images his dream had produced. When he twisted the faucet off he saw all the motel and rest stop sinks he'd gasped for air over after the visions that had haunted his early twenties. He reminded himself that the haunted man in the mirror was the only similarity between then and now.

I haven't had a vision since we defeated Yellow-Eyes.

He repeated it to himself over and over, unconsciously starting to mutter it aloud as he pulled the mirror forward to tug an orange jar from the medicine cabinet behind it. He twisted it to look at the label: sleeping tablets he'd been prescribed when one of Dean's hunts had come his way.

He tapped out two and hesitated before adding a third. He left the bottle open on the sink as he dry swallowed and staggered back to bed.

…

Susan awoke to sunlight streaming across her face. She blinked away the temporary blindness and squinted at the digital clock beside her: 7am, the kids would be up soon. She flopped back into her pillows, and then shifted up again, surprised. Sam was still in bed. He _never _woke up after her. Susan leaned over him, quickly spotting the rise and fall of his chest and the peaceful angles of his face.

Still a little perplexed, she slid out of bed and wandered into the bathroom. There was a puddle of water around the sink, and she noticed at once the open bottle. She picked it up and shook it slightly, checking how many pills were left before turning to see what it was Sam had taken. Sleeping tablets – so something was up. It had to be more than just their troubles lately. Sam had only once before succumbed to using these pills, and that wasn't a time they had easily forgotten.

She wanted to call Dean. He could tell what was wrong with Sam after little more than a searching glance. She met her reflection's eye and grimaced. That was hardly an option these days was it? She screwed the lid back onto the pill bottle and put it back in the cupboard before turning and walking away, trying not to feel defeated.

…

By the time Sam came groggily out of his drug-fuelled sleep, the clanking of dishes was accompanying John and Keira's shouts as they played outside. He dragged himself off the mattress and made his way over to the window. John was seeing how high he could push Keira on the swing set he and Dean had installed when he'd first bought this place, and Keira was screaming with laughter as she went higher and higher. Sam smiled to himself, remembering when John was young enough to feel the same thrill at the rush of air from a simple swing.

His eyes misted over as the faded sound of Dean's childhood voice swam to the front of his mind, laughter as a young Sam screamed, 'Higher Dean, higher!' at some roadside park or other. It was memories like those that scared Sam sometimes, looking at his son and remembering his brother at that age. He knew Dean's need to protect him had torn his brother apart. Sam couldn't have John going through the perpetual guilt trip that had haunted Dean's adult life, so he tried as hard as he could not to be like his father. Even so, John had a strong protective streak that focused intently on his younger sibling.

Sam swallowed the sickly fear that things would go wrong, reminded himself that the next generation of Winchesters could not possibly be as fucked up as their predecessors, and turned away from the window. He still felt bleary from the tablets, but forced himself to stay out of bed, tugging on his jeans before wandering downstairs to his wife.

'Hey,' he said as he entered the kitchen.

Susan's voice was full of false cheer as she said, 'Oh, hey honey. I didn't make you any pancakes, didn't know when you'd be up… I can whip up some more batter if you want?'

'It's alight, I'll fend for myself,' Sam said.

Susan started to pull out the cereal box, but Sam took it out of her hands, turning away from her to pour it himself. Susan tried not to look as hurt as she felt as she went outside to watch the children.

…

The next few days passed with the same uneasy snippets of conversation while both of them immersed themselves in their own tasks, Susan scrubbing clean rooms raw, and Sam pulling things apart to make sure he didn't need to fix them. Sam kept using the sleeping tablets to knock himself out, despite the fiery nightmares they didn't chase away. Susan kept half-waking, the burning beacon of her husband not helping her own sleep. Her dreams were full of sensually beautiful women with cruelly laughing yellow eyes.

…

Circe had been hovering in the shadows, plucking at their dreams as they tossed and turned, but she had driven them as far as she could with this little scenario, and frankly she was bored. It was time for phase two.

She stood in the doorway of the master bedroom and with a casual flick of her wrist, tightened the hold the sleeping tablets had on Sam. She wanted him to wake up exactly when she orchestrated, and not a moment before. She wrapped a loose ribbon of mind control around Susan too – her use would come later.

Sweeping her dress out behind her, she left them for the time being, following a psychic scent to the little girl. Keira was fast asleep, curled around a soft toy duck. Circe leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead so that the child stirred. Before she could awaken fully, Circe turned and strode back to Sam and Susan.

As she walked, her body seemed to melt away, taking a form that would be familiar to Sam, even in just the few seconds he would catch of it. She quickly manoeuvred Susan into place, grinning all the while, counting on the scream that would soon come. Then she pulled Sam into enough awareness to feel the drops of hot liquid hit his face.

He groaned, not quite awake enough to see what it was until Keira's ear shattering scream echoed through the house. Sam's eyes snapped open as Circe clicked her fingers. Sam had a moment to recognise his wife stuck to the roof, her hair splayed out around her and a bloody slash across her stomach, before flames burst out around her. He shot upright, choking out a 'No!' as laughter hit his ears. He looked in time to see an old enemy, eyes flashing yellow as he smirked victoriously and vanished.

It took Sam too long to realise he had to move. Even then he functioned slowly, his system dull and shocked, until he heard another scream and realised John and Keira were clinging to the doorway. Instantly his muscles unlocked and he ran to grab them, scooping them both into his arms and running out of the house. They clung to him frantically.

It took the fire department twenty minutes to get to the cabin. Any hope for Susan had long passed. Sam stood leaning against his car in an old pair of jeans he'd found in the trunk, the kids pressed against his legs, the two of them scarily silent and trembling in the cold night. He didn't know what to do. It was a long time since he had felt this vulnerable.

Slowly, Sam reached into his pocket for his phone. Thankfully, he had left it outside in the car, and he flipped through the address book now, searching for a number he knew by heart anyway.

_Dean_.

He hit the dial button, and waited. The phone rang ten times and then Dean's pre-recorded message came through.

'Hi, this is Dean Winchester. I can't make it to the phone. Leave a message.'

'Uh Dean, it's Sam.' _Where to start? _'Something really bad happened here. And… and I know it sounds mental, but I think Yellow-Eyes is back. Please call me.'

He hung up and let out a dry sob, watching as a fireman shook his head at the sight of the now destroyed, once happy, holiday home.

TBC A/N Ooo-ooo-ooooh (or the x files theme. Whatever.) Go forth with theories. I had a really good A/N here before the computer ate it, now I can't remember it.  
But I PROMISE that reviews motivate me to write faster. HINT But Bron/InSecret can tell you it's true. Speaking of her - She's awesome. I managed to write in a mental little tense change that enjoyed eating brains (mostly mine) and she fixed it. Which makes her in-cred-i-ble. 


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